Taming Blood and Fury
by Fnorpan
Summary: Discontinued due to lack of response from char's owner - Hawke, an unapologetic blood mage with a love for sarcasm ends up tangling with Fenris, the snarky former slave with a deep hatred for magic.Will they be able to tame one another?
1. Chapter 1

**Got a chance to write about one of my favorite drawings from SuzumeKurei at DeviantArt. She's a great artist and I am proud I got her permission to portrai her character. The blood mage, Circe Hawke that caught my attention and sent the weels of my never sleeping brain into overdrive.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

~.o.O.o.~

"Anders!" Hawke demanded accusingly, almost kicking down the door to his hidey-hole in the back of the clinic in Darktown.

He was sitting at his makeshift desk writing at his manifesto as the door swung open in force, making a huge racket in the process. Some of his blond hair escaped the bindings of his ponytail as Anders stood and spun to face the intruder, catching himself on the back wall as he almost fell backwards in his hurry. Circe Hawke's black pixiecut was in a complete disarray, her peculiar reddish brown eyes glared daggers at the disheveled blonde mage at the desk and she had a smear of blood – like she almost always had - across her nose and cheeks.

"What in the void wrong with you! You abandoned me back there!" Circe argued heatedly earning her a scowl from Anders, matching her own.

"Why don't you shack up with Merrill? Since you seem to like demons so much." Anders spat, moving closer to her while glowing his familiar blue as he got upset and Justice began taking over.

"Seriously Anders? She might be cute and all but I'd probably break her, and I don't wanna have to buy…" Circe snarked with a wicked grin playing at the edge of her lips.

"Don't try to humor yourself out of this! You made a deal, **with a** **demon**!" Anders accused as he pointed her in the chest with his indexfinger.

"No I didn't…" Circe snorted, cocking an eyebrow at him. The grin she wore grew even wider, eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. Anders sneered, pointing to her face as he growled.

"I saw you! I was there reme… **"** Circe grew tired of his incessant pointing and bit his finger on a whim.

" **OUCH!** Andraste's flaming knickerweasels! What did you do that for?!" Anders howled, glaring at her while rubbing his injured finger.

"Well, for one you're being an idiot…" she drawled, running her hand through her pitchblack hair. "I didn't make a deal, I was being lazy. Why fight a demon if you don't have to, right?"

"What?" Anders looked at her in stunned suspicion.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? The demon's dead. Seems I couldn't cheat my way out of that fight." she snickered while rubbing her stiff neck.

"It was a ruse?" Anders said incredulous as his eyes widened at the realization. He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed.

"Of course it was… I should have figured."

"Yes you should have." she agreed. "Now would you stop whining? We have a templar to frame!"

It turned out that framing a templar in Kirkwall was just as easy as changing your small-clothes. One would think that in a city where everything more or less was dictated by the Templar order, it would be a bit of a challenge. But nope. Find a drunken templar and tell him whatever ridiculous story you prefer about the Templar you need gone. Then skulk about the lyrium deliverers for a chance to snatch up an unsupervised shipment-order. Take said order and enter whatever name you choose – preferably the name of the one you're trying to frame – and hand over the order to the supervisor.

Voila!

Said Templar is suddenly not only accused of sacrificing goats – that one had Hawke giggling like a madman for hours while she and her friends unwound in the Hanged Man afterwards – but he is also incriminated further by the fact that he has a shipment of raw lyrium delivered to his door. In his own name no less.  
Shelby at the docks was more than pleased and apostates and mage-sympathizers all over the city was discretely giggling and snickering at the templars for a long while after that.

~.o.O.o.~

"So… Care to explain you particular brand of crazy?" Hawke snarked at the elf swordsman making her appearance on the top of some stairs, flanked by two archers.

Circe, Anders, Fenris and Varric had spent days hunting the thief and the ingredients for Solvinius, the herbalist in the gallows. It had taken them all over Wounded Coast and Sundermount and they had run across everything from Evets Marauders, dead qunari patrols and blood magic tomes - which Hawke of course snatched with her and read from cover to cover several times over – to mages in captivity of bounty hunters, crazed mages and lost keepsakes.

Of course they had run into slavers who were pompous enough to think she'd just hand over Fenris without a seconds thought. She might be selfish, contradictory and almost always looking to make a profit, but one thing she didn't do was utterly betray her friends. Shove them off an emotional cliff when they were stupid – like Aveline had been with Donnic – that, she did. But sell them out completely? Not a chance.

Dispatching the ignorant sods had been like taking candy from a kid and she almost felt sorry for the half dead mage Fenris got his hands on. The mage was terrified – for good reason – and let slip that a former tormentor of the elf was in reach and Fenris ended up growling his will until Circe relented in going after Hadriana.  
Not that that took much convincing really. Another blood mage, a particularly evil one at that, was encroaching on Circe's territory – not to mention the pissbucket was trying to whisk away her elf – and that was not something Circe could or would tolerate any day of the week. Gaining a little favor with the elf was just a happy side-effect.

Or so she had thought.

The scheme backfired horribly, to Circe's annoyance. The blasted elf had chewed her out first for giving a left standing elven slave, a job-offer. He did however apologize slightly when she had sighed, rolled her eyes and said she'd pay the former slave.  
Then after killing the blasted competition he chewed her out completely about magic. She even bit her tongue for once and played nice but he had the audacity to snap at her for trying to be nice, before running out on them all. Leaving them without a frontline man.

Hawke had been so pissed that she'd taken the brunt of every attack on her own. Not even needing a tank as she threw on her rock armor and went haywire with her magic. She took out every ounce of frustration and anger on the poor blighters, stupid enough to attack them on their way back to Kirkwall.

Unfortunately it didn't really end there since no more had they sat foot in the city again, before they had to rush to get Aveline and then go to Lowtown stop a disaster with poison gas.

Circe sighed and wrinkled her nose at the foul odor still lingering in the air, a remnant of the vile gas they'd just finished stopping from oozing out of their barrels. Of course the idiot stealing secrets from the Qunari would be a raving lunatic with a huge inferiority complex, on top of being a lousy thief stealing the wrong thing.  
Growing bored with the lengthy – extremely uninteresting – speech of the warped elf, Circe looked over her robes and failed miserably when trying to brush some of the grime off. She dried her sullied hand half haphazardly on her spaulders before scratching her nose with a swipe across her face, unknowingly placing her signature bloodstain back on her face.

None of her companions was really prepared when Circe's patience ran out, they rarely ever where since her temper was harder to deduce than the harsh winds of the Frozen Sea, even on a good day. And today was not a good day. Not by a long shot.

Suddenly Circe's hands shot out, slinging a massive amount of chain lightning at their enemies, leaving Anders, Varric and Aveline scrambling to pick up the slack.

"Enough ramblings… Just… die already…" they heard her grumble in annoyance as she used her force magic to brutally slam the small, still stunned group to the ground before unleashing a frenzied tempest their way.

Hawke was testy, hungry and tired and had cero patience for idiocy at the moment. Her hair in an even bigger disarray than usual and her temper had been boiling over frequently since the elf had barged off.  
Even Aveline could guess what the reason for Circe's particularly vicious disposition was. Or rather who.  
It was that infernal elf with a broody, vicious nature, white hair, green eyes and a ridiculously huge sword which he swung around like it was nothing but a toothpick.

Unknowingly he had become somewhat of a huge tease, flirting and making suggestive comments, but always ending the conversation with an excuse.  
Sure he was hot as a summers-day in Rivain and had a voice making men and women alike, fawn all over him. But this incessant running away was making her shoulderblades itch.  
Now to top it all off he had run off to only Maker knew where, with slavers crawling around everywhere and that after giving her a tongue-lashing rivaling those her mother gave her for refusing to meet the suitors she'd picked out.

Circe was not use to not getting her way, and normally she'd just use blood slave to get what she wanted or charm the pants off whom ever got in her way. But Fenris seemed annoyingly immune to her charms and for some reason beyond her own understanding, she found the idea of Fenris hating her for all eternity – which he certainly would if she blood slaved him - rather more off-putting than she was comfortable with.

With the elven fanatic dead and the disaster mostly averted, the party trudged back to the Arishok to deliver the news. The Arishok, lost it when the tired, hungry and cranky Circe couldn't keep her snark and sarcasm to herself.  
The others took a few careful steps back and looked on as the huge Ox-man started raging at the top of the stairs by his throne. Circe, however was in no mood to be either intimidated or yelled at, and simply stood her ground, contemplating murder. Arms locked over her torso, leaning on her left hip while watching the Arishok's outburst with tempered anger.

"He's on the edge. The Viscount should know." Aveline said, leaning closer to Hawke as they marched out of the qunari compound. Circe scoffed but said nothing until Aveline grabbed her arm as the Hanged Man came into view.

"Hawke! The Viscount needs to know." Aveline pressed and both Anders and Varric backed up in case of bloodshed.

"So go tell him." Circe drawled without turning, tugging her arm free of the Guard Captains grasp. "I'm hungry…"

"Hawke…" Aveline began.

"Fiddlesticks Aveline! I'm not that cur's blighted lapdog! **You're** the Captain of the Guard, not I." Circe interrupted and turned slightly to scowl at her friend.

"So you're just going to ignore this potential threat? You're that irresponsible?" Aveline shot back angrily.

"Yes and no. In that order." Circe answered quirkily, turning back to walk towards the Hanged Man. Both Varric and Anders could be heard choking on their snickers but Aveline was not amused.

"What?" Aveline demanded, cocking an eyebrow at the mage's back.

"Yes to the first question, **_I_** am going to ignore this threat. **_You_** , I suspect however, will not. And to the second question, no. I had no responsibility to begin." Circe explained, every word dripping with sarcasm as she sauntered to the door of the Hanged Man.

"Fine!" The Guard Captain exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defeat before spinning to stomp down the streets towards the High Town.


	2. Chapter 2

**All the credit for the Hawke character goes to SuzumeKirei at DeviantArt.**

(Smut in the end of this chapt.)

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

~.o.O.o.~

Anders had excused himself - to go back to his clinic in Darktown - rather quickly after having dinner with his friends at the Hanged Man. Circe, on the other hand had stayed and was now happily drunk and content with a full stomach, after an evening of Wicked Grace with Isabella and Varric.

She decided that she needed to get home before she got drunk enough to fall asleep in Varrics bed again. Last time she managed that, her mother had nearly eaten her alive from all the fretting and worrying. Not to mention it had taken several weeks to convince the stubborn woman Circe was not involved with Varric - or Isabela for that matter - and it had taken several more weeks for Leandra to stop glaring at the two friends if they swung by for a visit.

Walking home through Lowtown was easier said than done. The gangs of the night was seemingly flooding the streets and Circe was well aware that she was being followed by the resent upstarts in Lowtown, the Dog Lords.  
She was going to have to do something about them but going about it alone was not really the best option. Circe might be a little unhinged according to most, but stark raving mad with a deathwish, she was not.  
She sighed when she found herself surrounded by people chuckling menacingly, and cursed her luck. Just one night, one measly little night, she would like to go home – without having to one up the idiots roaming the streets at night – and still be drunk when she got home.

"You'd think you would've learned by now…" she drawled as a wicked smile split her darkened face. She held out her arms palms up as confused murmurs buzzed in throughout the gang.

"Blast it! She's a mage!" a man holding a large mace shouted, right before he was hit by a massive wave of chain lightning bouncing of him to the next man until the entire circle of enemies was writhing from the shock.

"Correction... Blood mage." Hawke smirked as she unleashed hemorrhage on her still stunned attackers now turned to victims, and followed suit with a massive Tempest.  
With her rock armor activated she pummeled the poor sods who'd gotten in over their heads with spells. The mabaris whimpered in pain as much as their masters when Circe's vicious attacks hit home.  
Just when the gang thought they had gained the upper hand – seeing as Circe was now low on blood and looked like she was about to keel over – she gave an evil snicker and unleashed her grave robber. Sucking up every last drop of life from the dead as well as stealing it from the few attackers still standing.

"Run!" someone yelled and all of them tried to get away. Circe was not having it. They started it, and she would finish it! Using pull of the abyss she dragged them all back in front of her and kept them there with gravitic ring as she finished them off.

When the attackers where all scattered along the ground Circe tiredly made her way through the corpses when she heard the sound of running feet. She tensed and made herself ready for yet another battle. She might have to flee if the group was as large as the last one, and the thought almost made her snarl as she turned to face whomever came her way.

"Hawke!" a familiar female voice shouted.

"Aveline?" Circe replied cocking a surprised eyebrow at the Guard Captain followed Fenris as well as the obviously intoxicated Isabela and Varric.  
Circe gave the elf a blazing glare making him lower his concerned eyes to the ground before she turned her attension to Aveline.

"Kirkwall about to fall into the sea?" Circe snarked, looking tiredly at her friend.

"No, I got worried when I found Fenris at your place, instead of you, saying he'd not seen you since the Wounded Coast." Aveline said a little annoyed at Hawke's hostility.

"We went to find you at the Hanged Man but these two drunkards said you left a while ago and should be at home." the Guard Captain continued, pointing with her thumb in the general direction behind her at the swaying pirate and sheepishly waving rouge.

"I got held up." Hawke drawled, kicking one of the bodies at her feet. "Unscheduled meeting…"

"Well, I see you got it all under control so I'll take this drunkard back to the Hanged Man for some much needed sleep." Varric said, patting the madly giggling pirates back while chuckling.

"We'll see you home." Aveline said nodding at Fenris who stiffened visably at the declaration. "I need a word with you anyhow."

On the way back to High Town and the Amell estate, Aveline gave a detailed explanation about the missing qunari delegation and the panic it had the Viscount in. The Seneschal was under the impression the deed could not have been performed without the involvement of the city guard and Aveline needed Hawkes help finding the honorless guards. Both Fenris and Circe immediately surmised he'd be found at the Hanged Man and after receiving yet another lecture about responsibilities from Aveline, Circe grudgingly promised to help the Guards resolve this cock up.

As they stopped in front of Circe's home in High Town, Aveline excused herself, leaving the fidgeting Fenris and yawning Circe alone.  
Circe didn't take notice of Fenris, didn't even grace him with a 'good night' as she turned and walked into her estate. But the door didn't shut as she expected it to and turned to see Fenris blocking the door.

"I… uhm… need to speak with you…" he said, uncertainty shading his every word as he looked anywhere but at Circe. She walked into the vestibule without a word, turning as she reached the arched doorframe leading into the parlor. Her arms was locked over her chest - as was her custom when she was angry or annoyed – and leaning on the doorframe while looking piercingly at the nervous elf.

"I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana…" Fenris said working up the nerve to look Circe in the eyes for a moment before once again looking elsewhere.

"I…took my anger out on you, undeservedly so. I was… not myself." He continued before Hawke could lapse into her usual tirade of sarcasm and venom.

"I'm sorry." he blurted out in a hurry, risking another meeting with Hawke's reddish-brown, still scowling eyes.

"I had no idea where you went!" Circe lashed out to Fenris obvious surprise. "The entire area was crawling with slavers and you decided flying solo was the best course of action?"

"I… needed to be alone…" Fenris said apologetically, still dazed by the surprise that she cared for anything other than him leaving them to fend for themselves.

"Well… I was concerned…" Circe pouted, looking pointedly away from the elf.

A small smile played at the edges of Fenris lips as he heaved a heavy sigh before telling her about his time as a slave. He told her about the kind of torment the blighted mage had been, what he'd been put through and with every word out of his mouth, Circe's annoyance grew. By the time he finished his little trip down memory lane, Circe was regretting not tearing the skin of Hadriana's body while she still drew breath before carving her heart out with a dull shiv.

"I'm glad you killed her, she deserved no less." she spat before Fenris shared how empty the victory felt and how frustrated he was with the anger that hounded him no matter what he did or where he went.  
Suddenly he excused his behavior, again, and started walking away, **again..**. It irked Circe to no end. In a sudden impulse she reached out and caught his arm as she told him he didn't need to leave.

That move landed her slammed against the wall of the vestibule by a rather angry-looking glowing Fenris. Circe raised her eyebrow at him with a challenging glare of her own. Two could play the intimidation-game and Circe was not an easy target. Fenris faltered and was about to back away when she twirled him around with ease and pinned him to the wall in her stead.

"Going somewhere?" she drawled amused by the elfs shocked demeanor. Fenris answered with a brutal kiss and pulled the mage as close as their armor would allow was an abyss of need welling up from somewhere inside them, demanding them to deepen the kiss as they clawed at each other's clothes.

Somehow they managed to stumble their way to Hawke's bedroom in their frenzy and no more had the door closed before Fenris all but tore the clothes her body. He then went to work on ridding himself of the impairing gauntlets hindering his touch and Circe didn't do much complaining. Instead she occupied herself with stealing kisses and helping him out of his own armor.

They were a whirlwind of teeth, kisses and frenzied caressing as Fenris crashed Circe up against one of the bedposts. His lips found their way down her throat, nibbling at her skin as he trailed his way down to her sensitive breasts. He paused there to tease those delicious sound driving him wild, out of the petite mage between him and the bedpost.  
Circe enjoyed herself for a moment, losing herself in his touch, letting the passion build and pool in the pit of her stomach.

Soon the need for release became urgent and she all but threw the surprised elf on the bed.

"Eager are we?" he chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbows to feast his eyes on the gorgeous woman standing flushed with need in front of him.

"Shove it…" she spat breathlessly as she crawled over him, kissing her way up to his lips, coaxing out one or two reluctant growling moans from the proud elf. Fenris let her play for a while before flipping their positions, pinning her beneath his own heated body. Circe responded by curling her legs around him in a vice grip as well as snaking her arms around his neck to pull him into a blazing kiss as she pushed him inside.

Fenris thought the world was about to explode as he felt the pulsing warmth of Circe encase him. He never thought he'd want this ever again, but his need was overshadowing any lingering pain from the past.  
They fell into a frenzied pace as their bodies moved together in that age old rhythm of passion. Circe's hands was freely roaming the elf's lean but muscular body, making his markings flare in their wake as Fenris kissed and nibbled every piece of skin he could reach until they both forgot anything else than chasing their own high.

Fenris mind went blank as Circe gasped his name, almost snapping him in half as she reached her peak. Seconds later he himself tumbled over the edge, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck as he rode his high until he could breathe again.

He stayed there, reveling in the mindless patterns the mage drew on his back as he breathed in her scent until exhaustion pulled them both under.


	3. Chapter 3

**All the credit for the Hawke character goes to SuzumeKirei at DeviantArt.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

~.o.O.o.~

The cold awakened Circe's senses. She shivered slightly as she turned to drape herself over the warmth of her lover, only to be greeted by empty sheets.  
 _'Damn it Fenris...'_ she thought as she sat up, searching for the cover and finding him standing fully armored, leaning against the mantelpiece of her fire place.  
Brooding, bordering on agonizing, as if he was about to be made to walk off a cliff.

"That bad?" Circe snarked, swinging her legs of the bed, trying to identify and crush the feeling making her chest ache when looking at the flight-ready elf.

"I'm sorry, it's not… It was fine." Fenris said frustrated while his thoughts ran a mile an hour. Circe almost let slip a wince but managed to swallow it as she lowered her head. Anger and humiliation bubbling just below her deceptive, calm veneer.

"That's insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed." Fenris amended before letting her in on what thoughts had his stomach in triple-knots, doing somersaults. He had remembered everything from his childhood and life before the markings. Only to have it slip through his fingers the next moment.

"Well then we'll just have to try again." Circe smirked, turning to humor in a knee-jerk reaction.

"Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is..." Fenris growled exasperated at her, and before she could get a handle on the blasted feeling clenching her chest, he was breaking everything off.

"But I..." Circe's eyes went wide, jaw slammed shut with an audible snap and her anger almost slipped through.

No!

No blighted way was she about to say that! No way in the void was she in love with that ungrateful, whining elf! He might be the hottest thing gracing Kirkwall with his presence but she would rather shove her staff up her own ass rather than embarrass herself with pleading confessions to someone who obviously didn't care for more than a night's rumble in the sack.  
If this was how he wanted to play it then it was his loss. A fact Circe would enjoy shoving in his face any chance she got.

"I'm sorry... I feel like such a fool…" the dejected elf said, meeting Circe's blazing gaze before going stiff and abruptly turning to flee out of the room.  
Circe didn't move and didn't acknowledge him in any way. She just stared after him with and expression that could probably make even the most hardened pirate back away slowly.  
When she heard the outer door close she left the bed, cleaned herself up, got dressed and made her way to the Hanged Man.

This night it was a quiet walk. Not even the beggars dared utter a word to the dark cloud of vengeance making her way through the streets.

~.o.O.o.~

"Hawke!" a man's rich voice said loudly, shaking her by her shoulder. Circe made growling, whining noises and swatted halfheartedly at the person beside the bed.

"Andraste's tits, how much did you drink yesterday?!" The voice chuckled as she once again grunted weakly and swatted the merciless arm shaking her.

"I think she drank the bars entire supply of whiskey." answered a drawling voice of a woman. Circe's mind was slowly working its way through the haze of her hangover. She listened to the man she had identified as Varric, lightly chastising the woman identified as Isabela, for drinking Hawke under the table. Isabela's silvery laughter filled the air after she retorted something witty about finally getting Hawke drunk enough to get her to bed. Circe cringed at the revelation, eyes snapping open in shock and she groaned into the pillow.

 _'Fiddlesticks!'_

Now she had to make a very embarrassing trip to Darktown and somehow explain her need for healing in certain areas to the very curious and annoying apostate. Anders was never going to let her live this down, of that she was sure.  
Circe regretted opening her eyes the moment the light from the lamp in the room penetrated them, sending spikes of thundering pain straight to her temples. The sudden movement of her cringe made her want to hurl and the voices of her friends did nothing to help her mood.

"Would you two stop yapping like crazed mabaris for a second!" Circe snapped in a coarse, gravelly voice making both the pirate and the dwarf snicker, to her dismay.  
She felt parched - not to mention it felt like something had crawled in her mouth and died - and her head pounded like she had a thousand angry little dwarfs trying to get out of it, **with axes**.  
Sitting up was a tricky business, inch by tiny inch she managed to get upright - without expelling her stomach-content on the floor - until she had her feet on the floor, elbows leaning on her knees and her head heavily resting in her hands.

Someone shoved a glass under her nose and by the smell - or rather the lack there of - she surmised it was water. She gulped it down her dried throat with greed and grimaced when the water made her stomach churn restlessly.  
Isabela cleared her throat and shuffled nervously. As if she was about to say something horribly unpleasant.

"I don't want to know..." Circe croaked and summoned a healing-spell to her head before throwing her friends out and sullenly getting up to get dressed.

Circe didn't know much about healing, but she was fluent in curing hangovers. She had to be since her favorite pastime since she was sixteen – and had that horrible _'accident'_ with the neighbor's boy - had become drinking men under the table.  
The _'accident'_ , as Circe preferred to call it, had involved drinking and clumsy sex. The boy, three years her senior and gorgeous, had never talked to Circe again after the incident. Probably out of shame since he firstly had fallen asleep on top of her, half-way through the act. And secondly Circe had shamed him by being able to outdrink him.  
Since then she had used her superior tolerance to outdrink the less kind men, robbing them blind of both possessions and pride. Sadly, having a high tolerance did not include being immune to hangovers and thus she had obviously learned to deal with them her own way.

~.o.O.o.~

As the group made for the Viscounts keep, to meet up with Aveline, they made a quick stop at Hawke's home to get the mage a change of clothes. And calm her mother in the process.  
Leandra was about to evaporate from her fretting as they stepped in the door.  
Circe breezed past the agitated woman, pointedly ignoring her and Varric kindly stepped in to try and talk the almost hysterical Leandra down. Isabela stayed out of sight, snickering slightly at the scene Leandra presented and Circe got changed in a hurry. Aveline was going to kill her if she was any more late than she already was.

After getting fresh clothes Circe stalked down the stairs and was instantly attacked by Leandra who tried her best to talk to - or more like yell at - her daughter. She was in no mood to listen and to Leandra's annoyance she brushed passed the angry woman, still pointedly ignoring her hissing and snarling.  
Passing the dwarf trying his best to sooth the angry mother, Circe grabbed and almost dragged him by the collar out the door.

"Incessant woman!" Circe muttered half-heartedly with a small snicker as she stalked toward the barracks in Viscounts Keep with Varric and Isabela in a tow.

Today they were going to find a misplaced delegation of huge grey ox-men. That probably meant dealing with a certain Chantry sister who had a knack for pissing Circe off to the point of murder.

 _'Oh joy...'_

~.o.O.o.~

"You mind controlled me!" the elf all but wailed at her as she felt the draft of a bottle whooshing past her head before shattering into a million tiny pieces as it hit the wall behind her. She felt pieces of glass bouncing of her robes but didn't flinch, nor move.

"What? The wine and sleep wasn't appreciated?" She snarked at the all but frothing elf before her. His markings were flaring uncontrollably from time to time and he looked about ready to snap her in half.

"That's beside the point!" The elf growled angrily. "You... you... ARGH!"

One of her chairs crashed into the wall by the fireplace, crumbling under the force of the throw before slumping to the ground. Fenris was pacing like a trapped animal, shaking and snarling in his fury at her for controlling his mind the night of their tryst.

Circe had wanted nothing more than him gone – **quickly** – after his intentions of fleeing stood clear. She didn't want his apologies, nor did she want to see that haunting look in his eyes as he tried to apologize for being a coward.  
She wanted him gone and incapacitated for a couple of hours making it impossible for him to fuck up anything more in her mind. It was bad enough he had nestled his way under her skin to bruise her heart, making her hurt in a way she thought she'd become immunized against. She didn't need him accidentally walking in to see her drowning her sorrows at the Hanged Man too. Where she apparently also had ended up confessing to the little tryst as she laid sobbing in the damned blabbermouth Isabela's bed, in the pirates arms no less.

Circe had weaved a blood-slave spell that would send Fenris to sleep instead of killing him when her command was fulfilled. Then she had quickly commanded Fenris out the door, to drink himself stupid in his own manor before falling asleep. And now, two days later, he had barged into her house, pissed off like a rabid hyena and was in the process of chewing her out about it.

"What did you expect flowers and chocolates?" Circe snarked angrily, interrupting Fenris pacing rampage as she leaned on the wall beside her door. Suddenly she was more than a little annoyed at the raging elf's whining about how much she had violated his trust.

Fenris opened his mouth to spit something more at her but was interrupted by Varric calling from the foyer. Circe took one more, angry look at Fenris before spinning on her heel, sighing as she made her way down the stairs to meet up with the much welcome dwarf.  
Apparently Bartrand was back in town and needed dealing with according to Varric. And honestly, Circe would rather face that messy, fucked up family reunion, than be there in her house getting yelled at by a guy who had run out on her...

Circe grabbed her staff and proceeded out the door with Varric without a seconds thought. Leaving the upset elf to pace a hole into her bedroom floor all by himself. She almost giggled at the thought of how Fenris would blow up when he realized she'd left without finishing their conversation. But in all honesty, the absurd feeling that had imbedded itself in her chest made her reluctant to even be near the elf. Much less have her home - and specifically her bedroom - invaded by him. The incessant yelling and breaking her stuff didn't do much to lighten the mood either.

 _'Damn that blasted elf!'_

~.o.O.o.~

Circe stopped cold just outside Varric's room in the Hanged Man. She was going to see if he was alright after they had to kill Bartrand who had gotten more than a little crazy after their expedition to the deep roads.

As she came up to the door she had heard her name mentioned and could now hear Varric pressing none other than Fenris on why he was being such an ass towards Hawke. Fenris was reluctant to talk but eventually cracked in an avalanche of venomous angry hisses about how Hawke had mind controlled him and how she was utterly blasé about it. Even leaving him to fume, alone at her house after he came to talk to her. After a while of spitting and hissing Fenris also admitted quite a bit of their tryst to Varric, much to Circe's surprise and chagrin.

 _'Seriously, did everyone need to know?'_

"Can you really blame her for what she did?" She heard Varric ask the elf who almost instantly snarled something incoherent in response. Varric's voice gained a tiny amount of sternness as he replied that Hawke could have done so much worse, had she the intent to be cruel but Fenris just scoffed.

"You know elf, contrary to common beliefs, Hawke actually do have feelings." Varric said and let that sink in for a moment before continuing.

"And as long as I've known her, you're the only one who have managed to get into her bed. And believe me when I say, **many** have tried... Now what does that tell you?" Varric said in his usual snarky, half serious, know-it-all tone of voice. Circe didn't stay to hear the rest. That annoying pressure in her chest had become almost unbearable and she shoved away from the door in frustrated anger.

No! She was not in love with that blighted elf, no matter what Varric thought he knew.

Turning sharply, she went to the bar to find Isabela for a game of Wicked Grace and to get a drink. Preferably a strong one.


	4. Chapter 4

**All the credit for the Hawke character goes to SuzumeKirei at DeviantArt.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

~.o.O.o.~

"It's been weeks Hawke. Don't you think you should at least talk to the elf?" Varric wondered suddenly, looking over his ale at his tipsy blackhaired mess of a friend.

Ever since the incident between Circe and Fenris she had done nothing but drive him absolutely up the walls. She was always stealing his health during battles, out of spite, to render him almost useless until Anders could heal him. Also she seemed to love finding ways to antagonized the elf with snarky and razor-sharp sarcasm and even worse so if he dared open his mouth.  
Fenris had long since stopped growling his disapproval, since that only seemed to spur Circe on, and now he only fumed in silence at the occurrences. But everyone knew he was itching to – at the very least - swat Hawke upside the head, preferable hard, with the broadside of his greatsword.

Hawke was sitting across from Anders who turned to glare at the dwarf as he mentioned Fenris. He if anyone, was quite content with the elf's absence at the friendly gatherings in the Hanged Man and wouldn't mind it continuing. He also rather enjoyed the elf being shut up very effectively by Hawke at every turn. The only regrettable fact of the situation was the reason for the hostilities.  
That reason had Anders glaring lightning at the elf in pure jealousy, every chance he got.

Hawke didn't pay attension to the mage as usual, to Anders dismay but she stopped shuffling cards and stared at the dwarf as if he had just suggested her to marry the latest suitor her mother had turned up.

"What?" She gasped in fake horror, clasping her chest.

"Was Fenris somehow miraculously invisible to you guys during our morale-boosting-trip to the Bone Pit? From which, may I add, we just got home." Circe sarcastically continued as she dealt the next hand.

"You know what I mean Hawke. Maybe… I don't know. Give the lad a chance?" Varric sighed in reply, scratching his head while arranging his cards. Isabela was giggling slightly at the display as she helped the barmaid distribute the new round of ale. She always found the fact of Varric caring so much to be slightly funny since he made every effort to seem the opposite.

"Varric, do I look like a charity to you?" Circe scoffed mockingly, making Anders burst into suppressed snicker alongside Isabela. Varric only sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Maferath's balls, you're as stubborn as high dragon…" Varric muttered, shaking his head when Hawke stuck out her tongue at him.

"Charitable might not suite you, but I bet I could think of a few other things to describe you…" Isabela smirked as she undressed Circe with her eyes and placed her first bet.

"Ugh… You're worse than a bitch in heat…" Anders complained as he put in his bet and watched Circe smirk from ear to ear.

"I don't remember you protesting a few years ago." Isabela shot back, raising an eyebrow and looking hungrily at the blond healer.

"What can I say, desperation makes one do weird things." Anders snarked back in annoyance making Circe's smirk turn into full-blown giggling.

The light banter, drinking and card playing continued well into the night and Circe was happily drunk and content by the time she swayed towards the taverns door. Anders, who was painfully sober due to Justice's influence, followed her outside and asked if she wanted him to see her home. She waved him off with a grunt and huffed a deep sigh, shaking her head when he looked like a kicked puppy.

"Oh for pity's sake, **fine**! Stop looking like I ate your cat!" She exclaimed and rolled her eyes at the man when he lit up like a spark in a flourmill.

"I'm just concerned." He argued happily as a wide cocky smile spread across his features, making Circe scoff at him. Anders had been becoming increasingly flirtatious since the evening she'd thrown out Fenris and she knew exactly what was going through the man's mind.

"The only concern you have is what color my knickers are, and you know it." Circe quipped as she started moving towards Hightown with a sputtering and slightly blushing healer in a tow.

Reaching the Amell estate Circe invited Anders on a whim, she was tired of being alone and cold at night and decided to try some of Isabela's unwelcome advice.  
But as soon they walked into the parlor, they were all but attacked by a near frantic Gamlen. They were both taken aback as Gamlen started rambling and of course he ended up yelling at Circe for snarking something about inferiority complex.  
He was worried for Leandra who had not showed for their regular meeting and he couldn't find her. The two hotheads ended up in a heated gruff, with Anders in the middle desperately trying to mediate, until Bodahn came out of his quarters to help the healer break them up.

Bodahn suggested Leandra might be with her suiter and mentioned the white lilies she'd gotten and Circe felt as if the floor had disappeared from right under her as all the fight momentarily drained from her system.

"Wait, white lilies? Shit, I know something about that…"

"Well don't just leave me waiting! What?!" Gamlen shouted angrily at her.

"There's a killer in Kirkwall sending white lilies to his victims before he takes them." Circe choked out in a strained voice, already turning around to head out the door.

"He's murdered several women already…"

~.o.O.o.~

Anders had gone hastily to fetch Fenris and Aveline – seeing as how they were closest and how Aveline was sure to kill them if she wasn't, at the very least, notified - while Circe went to meet up with Gamlen in Lowtown. The group had very nearly missed Circe when she disappeared into a foundry following a trail of blood stains.  
Since then she had been unusually quiet, none of her usual jokes and snarky comments filled the air as she led the group in cold determination. The friends held back from bantering much and everyone was more than worried.

As they descended into the foundry's cellar they had found Alessa dead - the woman they had rescued from DuPuis a couple of weeks back - and they had met heavy resistance from shades, desire and rage demons.  
Not long after they found the dead woman - carelessly left to rot on a shabby cot in a forgotten part of Kirkwall's endless maze of underground tunnels - they came across a shrine-like living space. It was filled with tomes of the foulest kind of blood magic, and overseeing it all, was a painting of a woman bearing a huge resemblance to Leandra.  
Every comment from Circe's friends as they quickly rummaged through the mess of papers and books, fell on deaf ears and she was clutching her staff so hard she was visably shaking.

"I need to find her. **Now…** " Circe forced out between her teeth as she turned abruptly around to continue further into the winding hallways beneath Kirkwall.

It hadn't taken them long to fight their way to the inner most chamber and now they stood eye to eye with the mad mage who had kidnapped and killed so many women over the years.

"I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived." The mage said almost in reverie, before launching into a tirade of nonsensical, proud madness about searching and finding the right characteristics in bodyparts.

"I've searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, no force on this earth will part us." the mage finished as he revealed his abominable _'creation'_ with such twisted pride and love it made everyone present want to gag in utter horror.

Circe stood frozen to the ground, eyes nailed to the staggering piece of dead flesh that didn't belong to the head attached to it and hardly seemed to recognize the hordes of enemies risen from the ground by the power of the mad mage. She only had eyes for the heinous creature wearing her mother's dead, twisted face.

Aveline and Fenris took the brunt of the attack, trying their best to protect Hawke when they heard Anders call out a warning.

" **MOVE! NOW!** "

The warriors both turned in time to see Circe impaling a desire demon on her staff before they had to throw themselves out of the way of a massive hemorrhage followed by a tempest so fierce it literary shook the foundation of Kirkwall itself.  
The fight continued on in that manner, Anders on the lookout sending spells out left and right, while Aveline and Fenris tried their best to fill in the gaps of Circe's enraged onslaught.  
As the third desire demon went down, the mad mage's shields dissipated and Hawke forgot everything other than him. Her attacks was both vicious and brutal and it didn't take long for the maddened mage to get overpowered.

But as the mage fell to Circe's savage assault, as did the abomination he had stitched together with death, blood and madness.  
Circe scrambled to catch what was left of her mother before she hit the ground as her friends walked up behind her.

"There is nothing I can do… His magic was keeping her alive…" Anders said quietly, sharing a somber look with Fenris and Aveline.

"I knew you'd come." Leandra smiled, looking almost serenely at Circe.

"Don't I always?" Hawke forced out, trying to make light of an impossible situation. Leandra told her not to fret, that she was now free from the wicked man and that she would be going to see both Bethany and her father.

"But you'll be all alone…" Leandra continued with sad concern as she eyed Circe to the best of her ability.

"I'll be fine mother." Circe said sounding almost annoyed at the fact that even in the face of imminent death, her mother was worried for her. Leandra's parting words were those of love, hope and pride and as the last life left her Circe dropped the body and disappeared without a word.

~.o.O.o.~

"Hawke?" Varric said getting up in alarmed response to her violently barging into his not so humble abode in the Hanged Man. Her black hair was in its usual disarray, her robes and face stained with fresh blood and she was growling bloody murder.  
Varric didn't say anything more before pulling out a couple of glasses and a bottle of brownish liquid. He put a generous amount in both glasses and put one in front of Circe. She downed it in one go, slamming the glass into the table as she growled an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Now. Care to tell me what happened?" Varric said as he poured some more Antivan brandy into Hawke's glass. Circe made a guttural disgusted noise of bitterness as she downed the second glass before launching into a vivid and very colorful recount of the evenings events.

She had no more than arrived home before the pathetic excuse of an uncle came barging in, pestering her about Leandra's whereabouts once more. Then the blighted ass had the audacity to blame her and yell at her before breaking into a sobbing, pitiable mess. She answered him truthfully about why the mage had taken Leandra. That sent the man once again into angry ranting about how the templars where right and mage's should be locked up with no chance of pardon.  
When he turned to reel on Circe she'd knocked him on his ass with force-magic before throwing him out the door with the promise of death if he dared set foot in her house again without her permission.

Circe took a pause while downing a couple of drinks before continuing.

"As if the whole blighted mess with mother and Gamlen wasn't bad enough…" she said between drinks.

"Fenris decided it was a good idea to show up…"

"By the looks of it, I take it was not a happy reunion…" Varric muttered chugging the last of his drink and pouring more for them both.

At first it had been just a nervous, well-meant attempt to be supportive but when Circe had asked him about his mother he had concluded that she had at least known hers, seeing as he had no memories of his.  
That of course had Circe spitting lightning and force-waves at the elf quicker than he could dodge them and the two had ended up in a furious argument over magic.

"Magic killed your mother and **still** you refuse to see that it needs to be contained?!" Fenris had shouted at her as he blocked yet another force-blast.

"Oh that's rich coming from the coward fleeing even the possibility to regain the memories of his **own** mother!" Circe spat back, her entire being engulfed in the screeching, crackling of lightning as she drove the infuriating elf backwards towards the door.

" **Get out!** " Circe howled before releasing the fury of her lightning at the elf fleeing out the door.

Varric sighed in annoyance, rubbing his forehead as Circe returned to the present, downing one more drink. She was bristling with anger from retelling the night's events and Varric couldn't find it in his heart to blame her.

"I'll kill him myself…" Varric muttered before settling in to help Hawke drink her sorrows to rest.


	5. Chapter 5

**All the credit for the Hawke character goes to SuzumeKirei at DeviantArt.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

~.o.O.o.~

"It's true I swear!" Isabela giggled as she chugged another shot of whiskey, looking glibly at the doubtful mage beside her.

"You've actually slept with one?!" Hawke wondered in curiosity as she slung back her own whiskey.

"Yea, and let me tell you…" Isabela let out an appreciative whistle as her eye's sparkled with their usual mischief.

"I wouldn't mind one of those brutes impaling me again, if you catch my drift."

"Slut…" Circe snickered in amusement at the pun, turning her attention to her glass once more.

"Indeed!" Isabela laughed heartily, raising her glass in a toast.

"Hey, you coming or are we playing without you?" Varric hollered from the entrance to his quarters making both Hawke and the pirate turn their attension towards him.

"Wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to lose some coin to your cheating asses." Circe scoffed cheerfully.

"And I'm sure I don't know **what** you're talking about…" Isabela said smirking as she sauntered towards the stairs with a lewd expression.

After a nice evening of drinking and cards, Circe walked fairly drunk Merrill back to the Alienage to keep her out of trouble. A lone drunken Dalish mage was an easy target in the harsh climate of Kirkwall and she was in no mood to have her friend disappear or get killed. Especially after what had happen to her mother.  
Circe denied it extensively behind harsh sarcasm and rudeness if anyone dared point it out, but she had become fiercely protective of her friends after the death of her mother.  
Anders also tagged along on the trip to the alienage, as usual, still trying to flirt his way into Circe's bed. But for once she was grateful for the healer's presence as the tiny elf mage decided to get real clingy as they were about to leave. Hawke had put the tiny elf to bed when she latched on to Hawke's neck and held on for dear life.

"Don't! Don't leave! Please! I… I don't want to be alone anymore…" Merrill piped, blushing as she clung to Circe's neck, hiding her face in the crook there, when Circe tried to pull back from the bed.

"Sweetie, you're drunk…" Anders said kindly, plying the elf from the annoyed and slightly shocked Circe.

"I'm sorry. I just… thought, with Fenris gone… you and Isabela… maybe I…" Merrill stuttered, blushing profusely where she sat in her bed, fidgeting with her blanket.

"Merrill… Are you calling me a slut?" Hawke smirked, looking at the beet-root-red elf when her eyes shot wide open in a horrified expression. Merrill opened and closed her mouth without producing any sound as she amply shook her head.

"You know, I think she is." Anders snickered teasingly, looking amusedly over to Hawke with his arms folded over his chest, giving her appreciative look as his eyes roved the length of her body. Circe cocked an eyebrow at him with a pointed glare, to let him know he wasn't helping.

"I… I… I'm sooo sorry… I thought…. N… never mind… Forget I said anything… I... I'm rambling… Oh Elgar'nan! I'm sorry…" Merrill quickly added, stumbling over her fading words as she hid her face in her hands. She was blushing an impossible shade of read all the way up to the tips of her pointy ears.

"Maker… the way you two carry on, one could think I was only eligible partner left in Kirkwall…" Hawke muttered, closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. None of her friends answered, Merrill just sat staring at her fidgeting hands while Anders blushingly made a bee-line for the door.

Circe opened her eyes again, looking down at the horrified elf with an annoyed but still vaguely amused expression.

"Look, whatever Isabela told you, it's not true. I drank, passed out and slept. End of story… Now sleep well Kitten!" Hawke said with a sigh, leaving out the embarrassing part of crying her heart out as she spun on her heel to follow the healer, fully intent on giving him a piece of her mind.

Of course nothing ever went as planned, and as soon as Circe stepped foot outside Merrill's door she had to dodge an arrow whooshing past her head to lodge itself in the door behind her.

 _'Damned gangs…'_

~.o.O.o.~

"It… it's a book…" Fenris said incredulously, eyeing Circe with suspicious wariness.

"I see your eyesight is still working fine… " Hawke snarked, cocking an eyebrow at the elf while folding her arms over her chest and leaning back on her right hip.

"The book is by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You **do** know about him, right?" She continued, pointedly looking away from the elf to inspect the flames dancing in the fireplace instead.

She had found the book after the fight in the alienage, the night she had brought Merrill home. Thankfully she'd had Anders as backup and the attack by the gang was soon over. The book was lying in a barrel, cracked from a blast during the fight and Anders had surprisingly pointed out that it would suit Fenris. She'd taken it with her and skimmed through it when they'd gotten to the Hanged Man.  
Varric of course made it his business to know why she was reading anything not related to magic, since he knew she loathed reading as much as Anders hated templars. When he found out, thanks to a jealous healer, he had begun pressuring Circe to go see the elf.  
It had taken a couple of weeks of persuasion from Varric, but eventually she'd caved and agreed to gift Fenris with it.

"Of course I know about him. What do you take me for?!" Fenris spat agitatedly in defense, before angrily reminding Circe he'd been a slave and hadn't had the privilege to learn how to read.

"It's not too late to learn…" Circe ground out through clenched teeth, determined to play nice since she had promised Varric she'd do so. If nothing else – he had reminded her – Circe would need her second battletank if the fragile peace with the Qunari faltered and it wouldn't do to run him off this close to catastrophe.

"Is that what this is?! Let's teach the poor slave to read?" He scoffed bitterly at her with eyes so filled with contempt that Circe felt her temper blow a lid.

"That's it!" Hawke all but shouted at the scowling, bitter elf.

"You know, they might not have taught you to read but one would have thought they **at least** educated you in manners! A simple ' _thank you'_ would have sufficed!" Circe growled, glaring daggers at Fenris. She wanted nothing more than to shove a lightning bolt up his narrow-minded ass, no matter the consequences.

"Ugh…" Fenris made a guttural disgusted growl, making Circe's blood boil as he rubbed his forehead with his gauntlet hand.

"I don't mean to seem ungrateful…" he continue, deliberately looking away from her, picking absentmindedly at the fabric at his left arm.

Circe couldn't remember when he'd started to ware that piece of cloth. It always made her itchy not to know since she suspected it had a significant meaning. She guessed it had something to do with the Hadriana event and finding out about a long lost sister. But she wasn't sure and she hadn't had the opportunity to ask since whenever she and Fenris talked it always seemed to end i utter disaster.

Like now.

"Really? You could have fooled me… Not even Merrill could find this grateful!" Circe snapped in angry sarcasm as her summoned mana started crackling around her hands with the beginning of a lightning-spell.

To her complete surprise, Fenris softened his demeanor at her las words. Looking almost dejected, he turned to her, telling her how he did actually appreciate the gift and how it might not be too late after all. His friendly smile and warm gaze rattled something loose in Circe's mind. All the annoyance and pent up anger suddenly evaporated into thin air, whether she wanted it to or not. Leaving them together in relative harmony for the first time in months as they decided to share a bottle of wine.

~.o.O.o.~

"I'm going to die! There, got your attension. **Real** problem…" Isabela said, looking smugly at the Guards Captain who had just been berating the pirate – as usual – for her chosen way of life.

"Oh for the love of… All I heard was _'Arishok'_ and _'Die'_ and as much as I would love that to be true, I'm just not that lucky…" Circe said in exasperation, looking between her two bickering friends.

Isabela happily launched into a retelling of her problem with the relic she'd been hunting and how she needed Hawke's help to get it to Castillon so he wouldn't kill the pirate. Aveline objected that getting the Arishok to release two fugitives from the law, who had supposedly converted, was a priority to prevent a full scale war.  
The pirate then revealed the possibility of her matter being related to the Qunari and it could possibly have a beneficial influence to the negotiation for the fugitives. Of course this led to more bickering and before they could rip each other to shreds Circe decided to help Isabela first. She would need every edge she could have when dealing with the blasted Qunari.

It turned out the relic Isabela was looking for, the item she had stolen, was in fact the very thing hindering the Qunari to leave Kirkwall. And the blighted pirate had known all along.  
It was one of their most revered texts, written by the founder of the Qunari religion – if Fenris was to be believed – and Circe couldn't help but be annoyed at this. In fact she wanted to strangle the pirate just as much as Aveline wanted.

"The book goes back to the oxmen Izzy! I'm not fighting the entire Qunari settlement over a blasted book!" Hawke said bitterly.

"Don't you understand! The relic is the only thing that will keep Castillon from feeding me to the sharks! I can't believe you're… Ugh!" Isabela threw her hands up in the air at the sight of Circe's annoyed disinterest to her protests.

"Fine! You're right. I'll return the relic. It'll go straight to the Qunari once we get it…" the pirate finished somberly, as she turned to enter the foundry in Lowtown were the exchange with the book was supposed to take place.

Of course nothing ever goes smoothly for Hawke since she arrived in Kirkwall. The Qunari interrupted the exchange between Isabela's friend and the Tevinter's and a vicious fight broke out with Hawke and her team in the middle.  
Isabela took off after her friend who was fleeing with the book and she didn't return, leaving Aveline, Circe and Fenris to wrap up the fight themselves.  
When everyone inside was dead or dying they stalked out of the foundry, only to find the body of Sam, Isabela's friends, sprawled on the ground with a slit throat.

"She's gone!" Aveline exclaimed as she read the piece of parchment left on the dead body outside the foundry.

"And of course she took the book. Fiddlesticks! That bitch born whore!" Circe growled in fury. She didn't know what made her angrier, the fact that the pirate lied and betrayed her or the fact that the idiot thought Circe would actually leave her to die by the hands of that pathetic excuse of a man called Castillon. If she ever found that pissbucket she would gladly rip out his heart on sheer principle for being the catalyst to this cocked up situation!

"Well, now we get to deal with the Arishok and the fugitives ourselves. That's good…" Aveline snarked, but calmed when meeting Circe's raging gaze.

"Enough. Let's go to the compound." Fenris intervened as a voice of reason in midst of all the bristling anger emanating from the two scorned women in front of him.


End file.
